"Harry?" a soft voice asked after knocking on the door lightly.
"Hmm?" came the drowsy reply.
"May I come in?"
"Sure, Hermione."
She opened the door and slipped into the dark room, her eyes on the man who was slowly raising himself to a sitting position. The blinds let in some of the bright moonlight, illuminating his hand as he reached for his glasses. A digital clock on the nightstand read 3:01 in blood red numbers. She closed the door with a gentle click. She sat down on the edge of the bed, the moonlight making her pale face even more ghostly.
"I know this is silly and you've been through much worse and I should just go back to my room but…but I was having nightmares. I couldn't get the battle scenes out of my head, even when I woke up. It was like I was in the war again and you were dead and I just knew that you weren't coming back this time and I was so scared." Tears began to run down her face. She turned away and used the back of her hand to brush them off. "It's silly – just a dream. I'll go. No need to keep you from your sleep too."
She stood to leave but his voice stopped her. "It's not a problem, 'Mione. You can stay, that is, if you want to." She turned back to him and gave him a grateful smile and nod before climbing onto the other side of the bed. The two rolled so that they were facing each other. "You know," Harry said while reaching out to place his hand on her arm. "Having nightmares of the war is nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure that almost everyone, especially those who had a direct part, has nightmares. War is a horrific thing. All of us will be scarred forever. For some, this was their second war so they'll have double the scars."
"I keep hearing the shouts of 'Avada Kedavra' and watching the green flashes of light. I hear the screams of the crucioed fighters and the sobs of the families of ones who died. It's like it's all happening again."
"Same with me, Hermione. Same with me…" He pulled the crying young woman close. Trying his hardest to help her block out the painful images running through her head, Harry gently stroked her hair and rubbed her back in small circles as he whispered words of comfort. "It'll be alright."
"It is alright, Harry. Voldemort's gone for good. I just can't seem to let go."
"No one expects you to. For seven years the war was our life, and the past doesn't like to go away. It likes to haunt us. Give this sometime. You'll save more happy memories, over time, to combat the darker ones."
Hermione's lethargic voice murmured, "I think I'll remember this as one of the happy ones." Her breathing slowed as sleep set in.
Green eyes gazed at her peaceful form with a love beyond compare. "Same with me," he whispered and drifted off to dreamland, a content smile on his lips.
